


Signals

by lilbluednacer



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drabble, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, getting togther
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-07 12:55:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15908697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilbluednacer/pseuds/lilbluednacer
Summary: Stiles knows what she's doing. Lydia's the most self-possessed person he’s ever met, and there's no freaking way she would sit here in the middle of class and innocently suck on a lollipop for no reason.She's teasing him.





	Signals

**Author's Note:**

> It was a Stydia feels kind of day <3

It's the crinkling sound of the wrapper that makes Stiles look up.

Lydia sits two rows in front of him in AP World History, their last class of the day, and he's grown accustomed to being distracted by her - the hypnotizing swing of her braid, the sound of her voice as she answers questions, the scrape of her heels against the linoleum floor when she stands up from her desk.

But this. This is different.

Because right now she's casually unwrapping a lollipop, bright red and round and shiny. He drops his pen on his desk, the essay question at the end of his test abandoned in favor of watching her stick the lollipop into her mouth as she looks down at her book. She finished the test twenty minutes ago while the rest of the class was still on the first page and now she's pretending to do homework, which Stiles knows because she told him at lunch that she'd already done the readings for the next two weeks and then rudely refused to share her notes with him.

She sucks, her cheeks hollowing out, and Stiles pushes a fist against his mouth to swallow an involuntary groan. He forces himself to look back at his test and hastily scribbles down everything he can remember about the Treaty of Versailles. He skims over it and when he glances up Lydia's pulled the lollipop out of her mouth and is full on assaulting it with her tongue, and Stiles honest to god thinks he might pass out because her lips and her tongue are turning the same candy red as the lollipop and she's just sitting there, bare legs crossed at the ankle, head turned down at her book like she isn't practically fellating a piece of candy on a stick.

He gets up from his desk to bring his test up to the front of the room; when he passes Lydia she makes the tiniest sound, like a sigh, and when he glances back over his shoulder she smirks at him and pops the lollipop back into her mouth. He drops his test down on top of hers in the exam tray and stumbles back to his seat, his jeans suddenly too tight, eyes hot and he should be embarrassed but mostly he's just a frustrating combination of aroused and irritated, because he knows what she's doing, Lydia's the most self-possessed person he’s ever met, and there's no freaking way she would sit here in the middle of class and innocently suck on a lollipop for no reason.

She's teasing him.

The bell rings, Stiles jolts and bends down to scoop up his backpack before rushing to the front of the classroom so he can catch her as she's walking out the door, the hem of her blue and pink floral print dress swirling above her knees.

“I know what you're doing, and I do not appreciate it,” he mutters, catching her by the elbow as they go out into the hallway.

Lydia falls into step easily with him and reaches up with her free arm to take the lollipop out of her mouth. “Excuse me?”

“If I fail that test it's your fucking fault.”

Lydia has the gall to laugh but she doesn't pull her arm out of his grip as they walk towards their lockers. “You won't fail,” she says reassuringly.

Stiles glances sideways at her and her eyes twinkle, Lydia darts her tongue out and licks it flat against the lollipop before popping it back into her mouth. Stiles chokes on spit and lets go of her so he can throw his hands into the air in desperation. “Are you deliberately trying to torture me?”

“Torture is a strong word,” she says, and tosses him a wink as she walks over to her locker.

He gapes at her for a moment before shaking his head, unlocks his locker and aggressively changes out his books, zips his backpack shut and slams the locker door. When he turns around Lydia's waiting for him, her leather book bag slung over her shoulder.

“Give me a ride home?” she asks sweetly.

He squints at her, eyes stuck on the way her bottom lip shines red. “Yeah, sure.”

She slips her arm easily in his and saunters down the hall, stopping to toss the lollipop stick in the trash. She leans over enough for her skirt to ride up the backs of her thighs and Stiles coughs, loud enough that she turns around and gives him a derisive look, like _he’s_ the one being mildly inappropriate.

“Come on,” she says, tugging on his arm to lead him towards the front entrance of the school. “It's supposed to rain soon, I don't want my hair to get wet.”

“Why?” he asks stupidly, stumbling over his feet as they push through a group of freshman.

Lydia scrunches her hair with one hand and tosses her head so strawberry blond waves cascade over her shoulder. “Because then it won't look nice anymore. Don't you think it looks nice right now?”

His eyes widen as he follows her through the front doors, the sky ominously grey above them. “Are you feeling okay?”

“What do you mean?” she asks impatiently, making an annoyed sound when she spots the Jeep parked all the way at the opposite end of the parking lot.

“You know what I mean! The, the touching, and the bending over, and the freaking lollipop Lydia!”

“Oh, so now you notice!” she snarls.

Stiles tugs on her hand to make her stop on the sidewalk at the bottom of the steps, gaping at her. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

She yanks her hand away. “When did you and Malia break up?”

He blinks rapidly at her, head spinning. “Winter break.”

“Right, exactly, months ago!” 

“What the hell does that have to do with anything?”

“Oh my god, seriously? You, you think you're some master detective but I've been giving you signals” -

“Signals?” he yells, more out of shock than anything else.

“Yes, signals, for _months_ , and you never notice! I wore a freaking tank top in February and all you did was give me your flannel and told me to cover up!”

“You looked cold!” he yells defensively.

“Do I look like the kind of girl who wears flannel?” she shrieks. “I didn't want your stupid shirt, I wanted you!”

“You - want - what?” he asks, the gears in his brain grinding to a halt, and all of a sudden the sky opens up and rain comes down in heavy sheets, instantly drenching them.

Lydia startles, reaching out for his hand, and Stiles grabs it without thinking. They run through the parking lot to his Jeep, Lydia skidding in her heels, and Stiles slings his backpack around to fish his keys out of the side pocket to unlock the car.

“Get in the backseat, I've got blankets!” he shouts over a clap of thunder, and Lydia pulls open the back door and crawls inside.

He follows her, tossing his backpack into the passenger seat, and bends down to pull out a big blue and white plaid fleece blanket. “Here.” 

He slides down the seat next to Lydia, the blanket held out to her. She takes it from him and wraps it around her shoulders, rainwater beading on her eyelashes. She twists her fingers in the blanket and looks up at him with big eyes; there’s something in her expression he can't read that makes him go very still, like a premonition, the only sound the pound of the rain against the roof of the Jeep.

“I'm so wet,” she says in a low voice.

He takes a deep breath and channels every smooth womanizing character in every movie he's ever seen and with a burst of courage he lays his hand on her thigh, up under the hem of her dress. “You are?”

She curls into him as she exhales, like she's relieved, her hands coming up to his shoulders. “Can't you feel it?” she whispers.

“Lydia,” he says helplessly. “What - _when?_ ”

“I don't know.” Her voice sounds strange, high and tight. “It didn't happen at all once. There were - so many things - it took me so long to put the pieces together and then you were with Malia and I - I couldn't let myself feel that way when you were with someone else, I wouldn't, but then when you broke up I thought- I thought I was giving you all these signs but you never acted like you noticed and I thought I was too late” -

“It's not too late”, he says in a rush. “You're not too late Lydia, I'm so sorry, I'm an idiot, I thought we were just friends, you know, good friends, and I like being your friend but god Lydia, if I had known, it honestly didn't occur to me that after all this time you could possibly like me back, I mean, that's what you mean, right” -

“Yes,” she breathes, and to his shock she starts to laugh, reaching up to shake her wet hair out of her face. “God, I thought I was going to have to take my clothes off in front of you in the cafeteria or something to get you to figure it out.”

He slides his hand under the back of her thigh and hauls her into his lap. “The lollipop wasn't exactly subtle.”

She hovers over him, lips sticky-shiny and red. “I was getting desperate,” she says in a throaty voice, like a confession.

He slides his hand up to the crease of her hip, gritting his teeth when she gasps and grinds down on him. “How desperate?”

She leans down and it's so easy, so right - he lets his lips part and she kisses him, the taste of artificial cherry flooding his mouth and she tastes so sweet he has to trace her lips with his tongue. She shivers in his lap, pulling her mouth away to give him a thrilled smile.

“Let me show you,” she whispers.

She kisses him again and then it's sensory overload, the sweet candy taste of her mouth and the steady fall of rain against the car and her slick wet skin under his hands as Lydia shows him everything, and he pays attention like his life depends on it because he's wasted enough time as it is and he's never going to miss a single signal she throws his way ever again.


End file.
